A Fashionably Late Reception
by Meridian1
Summary: A wedding? I love weddings!" Then why did he miss it?


Title: A Fashionably Late Reception

  
  


Author: Meridian

  
  


Rating: R (descriptions of nudity, sexual innuendo only, just playing it safe-mostly mushy love-stuffs)

  
  


Disclaimer (a.k.a. The Ficcer's Prayer):

Dear Lord,

Please make me owner of Johnny Depp sometime in the near future.

Until such time, will settle for not being sued for borrowing characters that do not belong to me.

Amen.

  
  


Note: It's been a while since I've posted stories, so, my apologies for the rustiness. Will endeavor to practice more often.

  
  


*****************************************************************************

  
  


He was up a tree, one leg dangling over a branch, the other spread over the length of it, his back propped against the thick trunk. Certainly not the most dignified thing he could have been doing, but he was Captain Jack Sparrow, and dignified was not usually a word anyone tended to associate with him.

Which is why he didn't particularly care that he was up said tree in order to surprise the living hell out of the only two grounded-literally, as they preferred land to sea legs-people he cared to count as friends. Word had reached him two weeks after the event, the standard delay of information for those who lived on the sea, that one Miss Elizabeth Swann had wedded a Mr. William Turner. As he was something of an unwelcome character in Port Royal, his intention this evening was to show up unexpected, something he rather excelled at, wish the happy couple a belated congratulations, then disappear before the Royal Navy had any idea the Pearl had made berth in its harbor once more.

The problem with ruddy intentions, Captain Jack mused, was that the best ones turned around and bit you in the ass. Or left you up a tree, a hapless voyeur watching two good friends enjoy one another's company. Not that he minded, per se, such behavior, but he wasn't completely so blase that the notion of watching friends in foreplay didn't at least strike him as somewhat inappropriate. 

Fortunately, Jack smiled to himself, propriety wasn't one of his character flaws. For the risk he took, he didn't mind getting a unwitting show of the new Mrs. Turner's 'rudder and sails.' In fact, her utter comfort with her own body had halted him in mid-climb towards the bedroom window-had stunned him till he stumbled backward against the tree trunk. His natural uncanny balance saved him a nasty fall and still left him with a prime seat for the evening's events.

Mrs. Turner had entered the room wearing a plain brown dress, definitely a step down from the rich gowns she'd been wearing when last he'd seen her. Past experience with disenfranchised aristocrats had taught him that most people in her position would be resentful of the loss of such finery. Such was not Elizabeth Turner, not the one he knew who had paraded around more comfortably in her underdress on a desert island-with a pirate, no less-than the finest gown ever to be left on the bottom of the ocean.

This woman seemed to appreciate the finer aspects of simpler clothing, especially its easy removal. No sooner had she closed the door then she was hooking a finger into the laces down the front of her bodice, wrenching loose the knot that had held the garment throughout her day. Without further preamble, she shucked it aside and pulled the billowy white shirt she wore underneath it over her head.

By then, there really was no point at all in denying he had a vested interest in seeing what else Mrs. Turner had to show off. Recovering from shock, he watched with one of his loopiest smiles as she shed the skirt and petticoats with similar abandon, revealing her perfect legs, albeit covered with thin stockings. Her most feminine area was hidden behind a perfect sheen of white satin-though well used to coarser females, Jack could identify satin on a woman any day or night.

She spoke one word, probably her husband's name seeing as the man himself appeared from a direction outside of the window's range. As if she responded to some lascivious desire of his, Elizabeth pirouetted, entertaining him from all angles. And young William, too, he supposed-only begrudgingly-as the other man became all smiles and embraced her bare form to his still clad one. Neither seemed to mind this imbalance of clothing, nor did Jack as he harbored none of the interest he had in Elizabeth's form for Will's.

Elizabeth laughed then, just as Will kissed her lightly. Jack found himself ranting-though he remembered enough to do so only in his head-at the other man. That was no way to kiss a woman offering herself to you. He had hoped their short stay in Tortuga had taught the naive blacksmith something, if only by osmosis. He nearly cheered as Will clutched his wife closer and deepened the kiss, not quite dipping her but pushing against her mouth with enough force to tip her slightly backwards. Atta boy, Jack nodded approvingly. That was the way.

Mrs. Turner appeared to agree, leaning backwards enough to bring her perfect breasts up for a similar treatment. Breasts were a highly overrated area on a woman, in Jack's opinion, seeing as most of his favorite ladies took great pains to show off those assets to lure in customers. He preferred, no, lived, to find hidden treasure...at work or at play.

An exception would have to be made for Elizabeth Turner's breasts, he decided. These were not the voluptuous orbs of a well-endowed woman, but he did not pity Will Turner for that. Instead, she had petite but full, even, perfectly shaped breasts, currently fully aroused, perky, wine-colored nipples hardened with desire. Her lovely tapered fingers tangled in Will's hair, freeing it from the tie at the base of his neck as he mouthed at her chest. Damn, Jack cursed, the kid was getting in the way.

Again, Mrs. Turner to the rescue; she tugged on a few errant strands of Will's hair to bring his face back up to hers. She permitted him one more thorough kiss then pushed him lightly backwards. With more recoil than such gentle pressure merited, Will staggered back just out of range of the window, most likely onto something as his knees remained within Jack's view. This left Elizabeth unobstructed, though he had to shift to see more as she walked closer to where Will would have been sitting.

"Thank you to whichever god I've been so good as not to steal from," Jack swore, doffing his hat and bringing it to his breast in salute as Mrs. Turner shed the last of her clothing in a coy but purposeful tease. Will's arms reappeared to wrap around her waist, pulling her up onto what Jack figured was a bed. Elizabeth straddled Will's legs, but otherwise held herself apart from him, a worse tease than before. Worst tease was yet to come as she turned, facing away from her husband and relaxing backwards into his embrace. Jack, on the other hand, had a view of the young missus that he could treasure for a lifetime.

At this point, some nagging voice in his head, dubbed his conscience by virtue of being the least amoral of his many voices, told him to leave well enough alone. He could scandalize the Turners as was, no need to indulge in anything more vulgar. Captain Jack Sparrow had some limits-not many, however, for even a renaissance pirate like himself had to maintain a bare minimum standard of depravity. 

Still, giving the Turners a private moment meant a bit of a wait for him, which returned his thoughts to the fact that he was up a rather uncomfortable tree. Made for a bloody trial of his patience, and he felt perfectly justified leaning over every other minute or two to see if his friends had finished yet. The treat of it was it wasn't really peeping, but he could still walk away from the night with enough impressions of Elizabeth Turner to make an honest man blush. As he was so fond of reminding people-mostly because they mistook his infrequent shows of limited nobility-he was not in the slightest an honest man.

An hour later's wait, and Jack quickly discovered one of many reasons to be glad he was not a married man. If all married men spent half so much time on pleasuring their wives as young Mr. Turner, he very much doubted there would be any energy left in them to pursue more raucous pursuits-like pirating. That was the nice thing about pirating: there was none of this love and till the death nonsense over anything other than treasure. And bollocks to treasure you couldn't spend, even criminally beautiful treasure like that of Mrs. Elizabeth Turner.

Quite sure an hour was plenty of time for the pair to calm down and what not, Jack set his hat back on his head in its most devilishly askew manner and pulled his feet under him. Treading lightly, he approached the window along the branch until he could spot it was too thin to support his weight. As was, he earned himself yet another memorable view of Elizabeth's rear end; the woman was on her elbows above her husband, who, sprawled out contentedly, did not appear at all resistant to a barrage of gentle kisses she was planting on his face.

Jack pulled his cutlass to bridge the distance between him and the window and gave it three taps. There was one last brief flash of Mrs. Turner's goods as she rolled aside with a shriek, tugging at the heavy top quilt on the bed to cover her. Obligingly, her husband slid forward to the floor, his expression of indignation spoiled only by the ticking up of his mouth into an amused smile. While his wife cast truly awful looks at Jack, Will Turner fished for his britches, hauled them on and went to the window.

"Jack." He didn't sound surprised at all to see a pirate spying on him and his new bride, let alone to have found this particular pirate up a tree in the first place. Opening the window wide, he extended an arm. Jack hesitated a moment-was Will actually inviting him in? Now? With his wife scowling like a mad dog and, more importantly, naked?

What the hell, Jack smiled, flashing Mrs. Turner all of his gold teeth, and braced himself against Will's arm as he leapt the distance to the wide window ledge. Even with Will's help, he nearly toppled and breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief as he landed inside on the floor at Will's feet. His less than graceful landing entertained Elizabeth straight out of her ugly looks.

Taking advantage of that reprieve from disdain, still grinning, he placed one hand to his breast and extended the other towards her. "Elizabeth, darling, did you miss me?" Will actually chuckled...until he caught his wife's eye. Jack looked up at him equally suspicious-since when did straight-as-an-arrow Will Turner have a sense of humor? Good lord, maybe there was something to this marriage nonsense.

Elizabeth was livid. "Jack Sparrow-"

"Captain, darling, please. Captain Jack Sparrow." He lifted himself steadily to his feet only to resume his customary swagger as he attempted to match her hard gaze. "It's frightfully rude to ignore a man's rightful title in polite company."

"Firstly, Captain Sparrow," Elizabeth said hotly, "you hardly qualify as polite company. Secondly, you are the last person on earth to have any right to lecture me on manners." She paused to take a quick breath that was almost as vitriolic as her rant. "Least of all when you come barging into our bedroom while we're..." she faltered, stammering and growing pink as she fished for the polite words to describe the most natural of activities in the world.

"Being conjugal?"

"Busy," she hissed before realizing that he hadn't said whatever tasteless euphemism she had expected from him.

"Tsk, love. I believe I was good enough to wait till an indecent hour for you two to finish up," he cast an appraising look over her sweaty shoulders; she responded by hiking up the bed covers. Bit late for that-not that he would let on just how late she was. "Got tired of waiting." Dismissing her outrage, Jack turned to clap Will hard on the back. "Good for you lad. I guess I needs must apologize for those eunuch cracks, ay?"

"What brings you to Port Royal, Jack?" Will asked, recovering from Jack's enthusiasm.

"All business, this one," Jack gestured at Will with his thumb before sitting down hard on the edge of the bed. Elizabeth gave a squawk of protest, Will folded his arms over his bare chest, just waiting. "Fair enough question, I suppose," Jack stroked his moustache, one of his more charming ticks, so he fancied. "We were sailing round this way, heard tell of a little rumor involving some mates of mine." He waggled an eyebrow at Elizabeth. She bit down on a satisfied smile, whereas Will, when he turned to look at him, was grinning widely. "Oy, wipe that smile off your face, you git. Bloody disgusting, you are."

"We did try to send you word."

"Sure you did, lad, only here's a tip." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "In the future, if'n you wants to be sending messages, try not to leave them with just anyone you think will know me." Leaning back to flash a toothy smile at Elizabeth. "Miss Scarlett was rather put off by being paid-again-to involve herself with the likes of me." His words had their intended effect; Will did look rather embarrassed. "But," he declared, clapping his knees with hands, "all's well. Even managed to give it to me without a slap. In my line of work, the fewer women who have reason to warm their hands on your cheeks, the better." As an afterthought, purely to scandalize Elizabeth, he added, "well, at least on those cheeks."

Elizabeth cleared her throat noisily. "I think I am rather glad you didn't make it after all, Jack."

"The lady wounds me." Jack placed a hand over his heart.

"Think of the scene you would have made," she mused, a wicked smile creeping over her lips. Turnabout was fair play, he supposed, but then he was not one to play fair. He needed to derail this quickly to retain the upper hand. 

No such luck, it seemed, as Will joined in, "We would have had a hard time keeping Commodore Norrington from arresting you."

"Poor blighter," Jack said cheerfully, without any sincerity. "Must have gone home, had himself a good cry. S'what I never understood about you damned romantics. The worst of heartaches can be solved with a bottle if company can't be bought."

"Company," Elizabeth corrected, "should not have to be bought." The heat of her reprimand lost its bite when she cast a wanton glance at her husband.

Purposefully mistaking the silent conversation between them, Jack chimed in, "Dear me, didn't the lad tell you what we did in Tortuga? Why d'ya think men be going to that place? There's company enough to be bought, whether 'tis with drink or just plain coin. Couldn't never keep the ladies from a pair of handsome gents like meself and Will, here."

"Jack," Will sounded panicked and displeased, but, for once, Elizabeth didn't appear to mind his teasing.

"I dare say I have no fears on that score," Elizabeth murmured, throwing Will a very knowing look that even Jack could read. It was Will's turn to flush, dropping his head so as not to look either of them in the eye.

" 'Lizbeth, darling, that was absolutely wicked. Will you marry me?"

"Taken, I'm afraid," she replied with a tender smile not meant for him that softened the blow of her earlier jest. And, bam! Will was back to grinning like he'd just uncovered a chest of gold.

"Well, to be honest-ugh, that tasted bad in me mouth," Jack frowned, running his tongue over his teeth to remind himself he was still a pirate, a liar, and a scoundrel. "To be honest, I'd give good money to have seen you trying to manage on your own in Tortuga." To Elizabeth, he added as an aside, "must have stuck out like a sore thumb, this one."

"True enough," Will admitted with a shrug. "But I don't think I'll ever regret a lack of familiarity with the citizens of that place."

"Shame. Don't know what you're missing there, mate."

"I have an inkling, and I know what I've got here. That's enough for me."

"And that is why you're such a bloody simpleton, Turner." Jack couldn't repress a contorted look of disgust as the couple shared another meaningful glance. Young people in love were revolting. "Well, just thought I'd drop in and give you my blessing n'all." Jack stood, a signal he was ready to leave before the atmosphere was so choked with smarmy declarations that he couldn't breathe or escape without catching whatever it was Will and Elizabeth had. Might just be contagious, and he couldn't be bothered. Didn't need to go about adding any more funny looks to his repertoire.

"Your blessing?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "Last I heard, you thought I was in love with you and should have married the Commodore."

"Aye, love, thought it would be best that way all around. You would have recovered from your heartbreak and the Commodore would've got himself a girl. He needs one about as badly as this one here," Jack gave Will another thumping on the back.

"Are you in Port Royal for a while?"

"Mercy, she's swooning for me again already."

"Jack," Will warned.

"Alas," Jack continued, ignoring him, "is not to be, pet. 'Less I suddenly take to fancying the rope." He rubbed his neck significantly. "Savvy?"

"The Commodore is out at sea at present," Will said, sounding none too displeased by this fact.

"Is he now?" Jack made a show of considering this. "Would be quite a bugger to him to learn the Pearl snuck into town while he was away, ay?"

"Will," Elizabeth chided, "we don't want to antagonize Commodore Norrington." Judging by the expression on Will's face, he didn't agree.

"Aye, that's the last thing I'd be wanting either, Miss 'Lizbeth-oh, pardon, Mrs. Turner." This placated her, though it made the whole room uncomfortably gooey once more. " 'Sides, promised the crew we'd move on straight away. Wouldn't want to disappoint."

"Jack, you rarely disappoint anyone's low expectations. You can only exceed them."

Jack staggered backwards, hands lightly fisted below his chin, his expression one of mock agony. "Reminds me of Anamaria, with that quick tongue. Married woman like you ought to put it to better use, pet." Elizabeth flushed crimson, while Will was suddenly taken with a fit of coughs. With one more rough pat to Will, he bowed to the pair with his typical flair. "Good luck to you, Will." He tipped his hat to Elizabeth. "Elizabeth, always a pleasure, save for when I wants to be savoring me drink." Whirling about with a flourish, Jack strode to the window.

"Jack."

He turned. "Ay?"

Will stepped to the side and nodded pointedly to the door behind him. "It's more traditional."

Jack regarded the other man with a blank gaze. "Never been one to stand on tradition. Not quite my idiom, I'm afraid. Pirate, y'know."

"You'll fall if you try to make it back to that tree."

That was different. "See your point, mate." Injuries were best left to inferior persons, and tree climbing was a sport for monkeys not men. Swiveling towards the door, Jack again bowed low and walked out. Muffled laughter came through the door. Taking a moment to throw them off guard, Jack burst back through the door to find Will just slipping into bed beside his wife.

Elizabeth uttered a snort of frustration. "For heaven's sake, Jack-"

"Forgot me present," he winked, retrieving a small box from one of the many pockets of his coat. Without further ado, he tossed the small black box towards the bed. Will almost casually caught it in midair, raising his eyebrow in challenge at Jack. "Ruddy show off, you are." And a damn shame he wasn't a pirate. Could have used another skilled fighter, though he definitely would have had to distract Will from pursuing his father's unfortunate tendency towards fair play.

As they had probably had just about enough of his company at present, Jack bowed out once more. They could catch up again later, in a place where the threat of capture was less, at a time when the mushy stuff had cooled to a reasonably survivable level. He strolled down the modest staircase, fingering a few trinkets laid out here and there, though the house was really too bare and poorly furnished at the moment to merit a grab.

It was fun to imagine them opening his gift, reading the note that came with it. Inside the black box tied with black ribbon lay the finest black pearl he'd ever come across in his many days of plundering. None of the men wanted it-was a womanly bauble. Not even Anamaria had any interest in it, though she was no more womanly than any of the other members of his crew. When Scarlett had gotten around to conveying Will's message, the decision of what to give to the happy couple was thus made a fairly easy one. A richer gift might have been found among the plunder of Barbossa's crew on the Isla de Muerta but not one so perfect.

The note he penned himself. Hadn't had any choice in that, really, as the rest of the crew were about as literate as could be expected of pirates. They were surprised he could read and write; the secrets of why that was being his own, he hadn't felt compelled to explain. Instead, he worked at maintaining a still hand while waves lapped at and rocked his beloved Pearl. It had taken a long while to conjure up what to say to the Turners, despite or, perhaps, because of, the suggestions of his crew. What did one write to people you had met through chance, liked against your inclinations, and wished well in spite of suspicions they were clearly insane to want to stay on land after a jolly good adventure on the high seas?

All Jack had come up with was:

Sincerest apologies if this turns out to be cursed.

That seemed to sum it all up pretty nicely. Below, he'd signed his name, writing 'Captain' in all capitals the way respectable seamen did on important documents about whatever it was they documented on those Navy ships. Somehow, he thought Will and Elizabeth would appreciate it.

"Da-da-da-da-dum, da-da-da-da-dum," he hummed to himself as he let himself out of the house and into the night air, a spring in his step. Damn it all, he thought with a smile. Always did get that song in his head whenever he was around that woman. In exchange for plenty of other wonderful things she'd gotten stuck in his head evening, he didn't really mind.


End file.
